


Workaholic

by ozsaur



Category: Boa vs. Python (2004), Thoughtcrimes
Genre: Crossover, Established Relationship, Gift Fic, Hewligan, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-20
Updated: 2010-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-06 12:13:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozsaur/pseuds/ozsaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Established relationship. Brendan has some adjustments to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Workaholic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [f0rcryin0utl0ud](https://archiveofourown.org/users/f0rcryin0utl0ud/gifts).



> Posted at psychic snakes for a mini-fest. Thanks to Trillingstar for the excellent beta.

Brendan cursed when he didn't spot Emmett's car in the garage when he pulled in. He had perfect recall, yet he couldn't remember that Emmett had called a few hours ago and asked him to pick up a few things on his way home from work. Was that the third time, the fourth, or the tenth time he'd forgotten to bring home the dry cleaning or a carton of milk? Not only did he not have the groceries, but he had worked so late that it looked like Emmett had gone out to run the errands himself.

Sighing, Brendan grabbed his briefcase and entered the house through the kitchen door. Another twinge of guilt hit when he saw how spotless the kitchen was. Brendan had rushed out the door early that morning, throwing his cereal bowl and coffee cup into the sink. Emmett had cleaned up after him. Again.

Brendan headed through the living room and into the bedroom where he stowed his briefcase and shed his suit, tossing it onto the chair in the corner of the room. He noticed that the suit he'd left there the night before was gone, probably to the dry cleaners.

Shaking his head, Brendan looked around the room. He saw that the bed was neatly made and his bathrobe was hung next to Emmett's on the door leading into the master bathroom. It was all Emmett's work.

He heard the kitchen door close so he quickly grabbed his bathrobe and threw it on.

"Brendan?"

"Hey, Emmett," Brendan said, entering the kitchen. He leaned in and gave Emmett a peck on the cheek, then took the bag of groceries from the crook of his arm and set it on the counter. He put everything away as Emmett went to the table.

"I didn't feel like cooking tonight so I brought home a pizza."

"Good idea," Brendan said, getting plates out of the cabinet. "But wasn't it my turn to cook tonight?"

"Yeah, but I figured I'd give you a break." Emmett smiled as he opened one of the boxes. "Breadsticks?"

They filled their plates and made themselves comfortable in the nook. As Brendan ate, he promised himself to get home on time the next day and have dinner waiting for Emmett for a change.

* * *

For the second night in a row, the garage was empty when Brendan got home. He hated breaking promises, even ones he'd made to himself, but there had been a break in the Miller case. Brendan couldn't possibly leave work until they had brought in and interrogated their latest suspect. This guy was dangerous and the sooner they got him off the street the better. So it wasn't like Brendan could just drop everything to rush home and cook dinner for Emmett.

Unfortunately, the guy had some kind of obsessive compulsive disorder where he was constantly counting in his head. Freya had been unable to pick anything important up from the man and ended up with a migraine. Brendan's by the book techniques had also been a bust and in the end they'd had to cut him loose.

Still, logic couldn't stop the sense of guilt when he walked into the empty kitchen and found dinner waiting for him in the fridge. He pulled the plastic wrap off and zapped the meatloaf in the microwave. He was halfway through dinner when he heard Emmett's car pull into the garage.

Emmett seemed happy to see him when he walked over and kissed Brendan on the top of his head. "Hey, want me to get you a beer?" he asked.

"No, you don't have to. I can get it."

"Don't worry about it, I'm already up."

He came back to the table with two bottles and handed one to Brendan. Emmett sat down across from Brendan and took a long drink of his own beer.

"Aren't you going to eat with me?"

"Already ate before I went to the movie."

"You went to a movie? By yourself?" Brendan winced when he realized that he sounded like he was still in the interrogation room.

"Yeah. I went to see that new James Bond movie, you know the one we talked about. It was pretty good, better than I expected, actually."

Brendan looked down at his plate, suddenly not feeling so hungry. "We were supposed to see that together."

"True, but this is the last week it's playing and I have plans for this weekend. I didn't want to miss it. You can still go see it if you want to."

He didn't want to go see the movie by himself; he wanted to see it with Emmett. But he'd put it off for weeks and Emmett had stopped reminding him about it. Now, it looked like he wouldn't be seeing it at all. His resentment was entirely irrational, but he couldn't seem to help it.

Changing the subject might be a good idea. "You said you have plans this weekend?"

"There's an art festival tomorrow, down town." Emmett leaned forward and put his hand over Brendan's. "You have the weekend off, so I thought we could go together. Maybe find something to put on that wall in the living room." Amusement shone in Emmett's eyes. "Something we both like since you won't let me put up my framed snake prints."

Brendan smiled back as he closed his hand around Emmett's. "Sounds like fun."

* * *

For the first time in weeks, Brendan was awakened by the sun streaming in through the blinds instead of by the alarm clock set for some ungodly hour. He'd been working every other weekend since his transfer to D.C. six months ago. Only a handful of people knew that Freya had been the one to ask for the transfer. She was the reason Brendan now lived with Emmett instead of still trying to maintain a long-distance relationship.

Logically, Brendan knew that he was damn good at his job and had earned his place in the D.C. office. He never would have been transferred here if he wasn't the best, no matter how much pull Freya had. Deep down, though, he still felt like he had something to prove.

Rolling onto his side, Brendan smiled at Emmett, face down against the mattress, pillow covering most of his head. For all that he was easy-going when awake, he slept like he was at war with the covers every night.

Reaching out, Brendan flicked the edge of the pillow up and let the sunlight pour across Emmett's eyelids. Grumbling and thrashing around, Emmett grabbed the pillow and yanked it back down over his eyes. Chuckling, Brendan leaned over and kissed the nape of Emmett's neck, the only piece of skin showing.

Nuzzling a sleeping Emmett to wakefulness, Brendan decided this was the perfect way to start the weekend.

Then his cell rang.

* * *

"Emmett, I'm sorry," Brendan said, yet again.

Yawning, Emmett sat up in bed. "Don't worry about it. Crime doesn't take off on the weekends."

"I really wanted to go." Brendan put his wallet and badge into his pockets, then grabbed his briefcase.

"There will be other art festivals we can go to. But since you're not coming, you'll just have to put up with whatever artwork I choose for that wall."

"Fine," Brendan said. He kissed Emmett, laughing at the sleepy smile on his face.

He would probably come home to snake artwork, but it was only fair since he was leaving the choice in Emmett's hands.

* * *

Brendan was pissed off when he got home later that afternoon. It was bad enough that his Saturday had been ruined, but so had Freya's. And for nothing. The so-called witness that could have tied up the Miller case turned out to be a man with a grudge against Miller. He was willing to say anything if it meant taking Miller down.

They'd spent most of the morning trying to track the man down. Soon after they found him, Freya realized that he didn't know a thing and was making it up as he went along. They'd spent the afternoon booking him on obstruction charges.

By the time he got home, it was too late in the day to try and catch up with Emmett at the festival. Pulling into the garage, his spirits lifted when he saw Emmett's car. His mood plummeted again when he discovered that the car was there but Emmett wasn't.

Changing out of his suit, Brendan decided to get a beer and watch TV until Emmett got home. He spent the next half hour, remote in hand, surfing from channel to channel, trying not to think about how he'd missed out on a day with Emmett.

When he heard a car stop outside, Brendan hurried to the front door and opened it just in time to see Emmett leaning through the passenger window, laughing with a handsome young man sitting behind the steering wheel. Then Emmett straightened up and backed away from the car as it pulled away from the curb. Turning, his smile broadened as he spotted Brendan.

"You're home! I hope you haven't started dinner. I've got burritos and tacos here." Emmett's hands gripped several shopping bags. It looked like a bright yellow sunflower was trying to escape from one of the bags. Another bag had the logo for the arts festival on the front of it.

Emmett strode across the lawn looking relaxed and happy. It sent a pang through Brendan that he wasn't the one who put that look on Emmett's face. When Emmett reached the door, he planted a wet smacking kiss on Brendan's cheek before entering the house.

"Who was that?" Brendan asked, as Emmett set the shopping bags on the kitchen table.

"Oh, that's Ben," Emmett replied as he started pulling things out of the bags. "Hey, look, I got us caramel apples for dessert." He held them up for Brendan to see, a big smile on his face. He put them in the fridge and continued to empty the bags.

"I don't think I've met him. Ben. I don't remember the name."

"Hmm? I just met him today," Emmett said, taking a white box out of a bag and opening it. Peeling back the tissue paper, he lifted out a weirdly shaped ceramic object, mottled green and brown. "I thought this might look good on the bookshelf in the living room. What do you think?"

"I think I'd like to know who this Ben character is," Brendan said, crossing his arms.

Emmett put the ceramic thing back into the box, slowly settled the tissue paper around it, and then closed the lid. Without looking at Brendan, he said, "You know what I think? I think you need to leave for about ten minutes, then come back when you have a better attitude."

"Maybe I should just leave," Brendan said, feeling his stomach tie into knots. That wasn't what he wanted to say. He didn't want to fight with Emmett, but seeing him laughing with someone else had been the rotten cherry on top of his rotten day.

"Brendan," Emmett said, his voice scarily calm, "no one is forcing you to stay. You're free to do whatever you want."

He walked out of the kitchen, being careful not to look at Brendan as he left.

* * *

For the next few hours, they stayed in separate parts of the house: Brendan in the living room pretending to watch TV, Emmett behind the closed doors of the study. When Emmett reappeared, he sat down on the couch next to Brendan, but not very close. Brendan turned the television set off.

"Ben is Linda's new boyfriend."

Brendan suddenly felt about two inches tall. With new grant money coming in, Emmett had been able to hire two assistants, Linda and Abel. "We knew parking at the festival was going to be an issue so the three of us decided to take one car. Ben dropped Linda off first."

Brendan rubbed at his forehead. "I'm sorry. I had a bad day and for some reason decided to make it worse by picking a fight."

Emmett finally turned to Brendan, taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. "You can make it up to me."

Smiling, trying for flirtatious, Brendan squeezed Emmett's hand back. "How do you want me to do that?"

Emmett ducked his head and gazed up at Brendan through his eyelashes. "Oh, you know." He smirked. "You can help out at the lab tomorrow. Linda asked for the day off."

Brendan laughed, then scooted over so he could put his arms around Emmett. "Okay, as long as I don't have to feed Betty."

"Spoilsport," Emmett said, letting his head rest on Brendan's shoulder.

* * *

Brendan listened to Emmett breathing in the dark. They'd been in bed for nearly an hour, but neither one of them could fall asleep.

It had been another wasted day for Brendan. He had been on his way to help out at the lab with Emmett when another call had come in. Brendan had apologized profusely, made an excuse, then took off to spend another day in futile efforts to achieve absolutely nothing.

He was late getting home. Judging by the note Emmett had left on the table, he'd missed Emmett by a few minutes. Emmett had gone to the movies. Again. Without him.

The moment Emmett returned, Brendan had exploded, taking out his frustrations on the most undeserving person. Instead of spending the last few hours of his weekend enjoying Emmett's company, they'd spent it in another stupid fight. They'd resolved it, sort of, but it still felt like the fight wasn't really over.

He was as startled as Emmett when the words slipped out. "You don't need me."

There was enough ambient light coming in through the blinds that he could see the outline of Emmett's face, the faint gleam of his eyes. Emmett said, sounding defeated, "No, I don't."

That hurt more than Brendan expected. What he had really wanted was for Emmett to deny it. Emmett must have been able to sense Brendan's hurt because he groped in the dark until he found Brendan's hand and took it in a firm grip.

"Brendan," he said, his voice low and quiet. Brendan wanted to roll away but he stayed right there, holding Emmett's hand in the dark. "I don't need anyone, I never have. I've taken care of myself for as long as I can remember."

Brendan thought about Emmett's life, how his parents had been completely unable to cope after the death of their young daughter. Emmett's parents eventually divorced, his father drifting away, his mother physically present but not really there for her son. They had both completely cut ties with Emmett when he'd chosen to become a herpetologist.

Emmett wasn't a natural loner, he was too outgoing for that, but he had learned to do everything on his own, putting himself through school, traveling to remote places to capture and study snakes, doing research on the thinnest of budgets. No, not a loner, but a man who could take care of himself, who had developed deep inner resources, and who could make friends everywhere he went.

Dread filled Brendan's gut as he realized that their home, their relationship, might just be a passing moment in Emmett's life until he was ready to move on.

"If you don't need me, then what's keeping you here?" Brendan demanded.

Even in the dim light, Brendan could see Emmett's smile. "Don't you get it? It's you! I want to build a life with you. I want to take care of you, as much as you'll let me. I want to make you happy. I. Want. You."

Brendan reached out and took Emmett into his arms, too choked up to speak. Emmett curled against him, exactly where he should have been all along.

"Hey," Emmett said, running a soothing hand down Brendan's arm. "What's going on with you? You keep getting mad at me lately and I'd really like to know why."

Brendan took a steadying breath. "You don't need me."

"We've already established that," Emmett said, sounding a bit irritated.

"You acted like it didn't matter if I was here or not. Like you didn't care."

"What?!" Emmett pushed out of Brendan's arms, leaned up on his elbow, and glared down at Brendan. "I uprooted my life, moved here, spent money building a new facility for Betty that I could have put into my research, bought a house with you-- what part of that says I don't care?"

Brendan knew that if he tried to explain it, he'd sound like a complete idiot. He certainly had been acting like one. It wasn't Emmett who'd been treating their relationship like a convenient rest stop on the way to somewhere else.

"I'm sorry," Brendan said, cupping Emmett's face in his hands. "I'm an idiot."

Then he did the only thing that would stop another fight. Brendan pulled Emmett down for a kiss. They would have to talk eventually, but at the moment, Brendan needed to show Emmett that he was wanted, too.

* * *

Two weeks later...

Keeping an eye on the clock, Brendan shoved the last piece of paperwork into a folder and dropped it into the bottom desk drawer. He was done for the day, with plenty of time to stop by the dry cleaners on his way home.

"Brendan!" Freya hurried toward him, eyes bright with excitement. "Patterson just called. He wants to make a statement."

They'd been working on Patterson for weeks trying to get him to roll over on his boss. This could be the breakthrough they were looking for. Or it could Patterson dithering around again.

Brendan stood up and grabbed his briefcase. "Take Jackson with you. It's my night to cook dinner."

Freya's jaw dropped. Brendan laughed. It wasn't often he was able to surprise her. As he walked away, he said over his shoulder, "Call me if Patterson actually comes through for you."

Brendan would come back in if this turned out to be a real development in the case. But he wasn't going to waste a minute of his evening with Emmett if he could help it.

The End


End file.
